"Why do you call me 'cousin?'" she asked, impatiently.
He looked up in surprise.
"You are my cousin, are you not, Philippa?"
"I am only your second cousin," she said; "and you have never called me so before."
"I have always called you 'cousin' in my thoughts," he declared. "How remiss I am!" he exclaimed, suddenly. "You will think that I have forgotten what little manners I had. I never congratulated you on your success."
"What success?" she asked, half impatiently.
"I have not been twenty-four hours in London, yet I have heard on all sides of your charms and conquests. I hear that you are the belle of the season--that you have slain dukes, earls, marquises, and baronets indiscriminately. I hear that no one has ever been more popular or more admired that Philippa L'Estrange. Is it all true?"
"You must find out for yourself," she said, laughingly, half disappointed that he had laid the spray of lilac down without any further remark, half disappointed that he should speak in that light, unconcerned fashion about her conquests; he ought to be jealous, but evidently he was not.
Then, to her delight, came a summons for Mrs. Peters; she was wanted in the housekeeper's room.
"Now we are alone," thought Philippa, "he will tell me that he is pleased to see me. He will remember that he called me his little wife."